


Way Of The Harudai

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: Black Magician Trilogy - Trudi Canavan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Feudal Japan Based, Bodyguard Romance, Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lorlen, a mysterious Harudai temple guardian, is assigned to protect Dorrien, the new Head Priest of Shao Shrine, he has no idea what to expect...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Way Of The Harudai

**Author's Note:**

> Feudal-Era based AU. Written for the Valentine's Day Challenge on the BMT forum!
> 
> A combination of watching too much Inuyasha and Fullmetal Alchemist and being too much of an otaku for my own good brought this about...and a need to give in to writing a less known pairing. Actually, I don't think anyone's ever written them before... This AU is based on the Japanese Feudal Period, or Warring States Era. It's ninjas, kimonos, demons and shrines from here on in... 
> 
> Also, here is a list of notes about terms used and stuff described or referred to in the fic that aren't widely known about:  
> Osechi-ryori – Traditional prepared meals eaten in Japan at New Year’s  
> Kobumaki – Kelp roll osechi-ryori  
> Kurikinton – Mashed sweet potato with sweet chestnuts osechi-ryori  
> Sake – Drink made from fermented rice. Can be alcoholic or not  
> O-mamori – Small band of ribbon or braided cord attached to a charm symbolising the wish the giver gives to the receiver  
> Shounin – Priest, monk or holy man  
> Sekihan - Red rice dish served at important events  
> Futon – Traditional Japanese bed, rests on the floor

 

 

Being one of the Harudai, the ninja shrine guardians, didn’t leave much time for social activities. Most of the formative years of life were spent practising and honing ninja skills, devotedly dedicating themselves to the practise of martial arts and sword and weapon training. After their training was complete, new initiates were assigned sentinel duties around the Harudai home city of Tai Xing, causing them to be constantly on guard all day or night, and spending any free time they got between guarding and sleeping honing and fine-tuning their skills. Only when a Harudai completed the two years of duty in the home city could they become a full member of the order, and be sent away to guard one of the land’s many shrines. 

Lorlen reached this point two years ago, at the same time as his best friend, Akkarin, and they were sent away together to a small village high in the mountains where an important shrine stood. This shrine guarded a crystal, a stone with great magical power, and it was an honour to be sent there. Still, Lorlen had felt like an iron fist was crushing his heart as he watched the beautiful high towers of Tai Xing fading into the distance behind him. His childhood home was slipping out of sight, and custom dictated that he should not see it again until he was an old man, or unless some great crisis befell the order. Had he chosen the path of a teacher, he would have remained; however, when the time had come to make the choice, his heart had called for freedom and pastures new. He reminded himself of this as he watched Tai Xing recede, and turned away to stare out at the land.

They had arrived two weeks later in Shao, a tiny farming village that lived in the shadow of a tall mountain. The path to the shrine wound up a smaller slope to the left of the hulking shadow, more accessible and within easy walking distance of a horse and cart. Traditional and red, the crossing bars of the shrine gate were welcoming as they passed through. Lorlen looked up at them as he guided his horse underneath; two long boles of brightly painted wood stretched high above their heads, with one long red bar supporting another black bar at the top, a decorational flare at each end. Another red bar swooped across the open space slightly underneath.

The shrine complex itself was also beautiful and comforting, the traditional layout set out to surround the main shrine building. They were met by the head of the Harudai, a thickset man named Homan, and he guided them to their rooms.

Lorlen smiled as he looked down at the celebrations. Bright lanterns illuminated everything, and the procession following the dragon twisted and curled around the glowing temple grounds. As always, his eyes followed his charge; the young head of the shrine priests. He had been here for two years since the day he first arrived, and had recently been appointed personal bodyguard to the Head Priest.

He pursed his lips as he considered him. Dancing below, he led all the other priests of the shrine well, and protected it from scheming demon invaders. When he had first arrived, he had passed the young man off as too fresh and naïve, but he had changed his opinion after the last Head Priest gave up his position to the younger man. The new Head Priest had taken on the duties well. Lorlen, as someone who respected those who carried out their duty unflinchingly, found himself liking the young man.

His name was Dorrien, and he was dancing now as if nothing could hold him upon the earth. Lorlen allowed himself a small smile, hidden completely by the red, white and black face mask the Harudai wore almost all the time for concealment from their enemies. The other features of his outfit included a large hood into which his long ponytail was tucked, a set of light plate mail covering his chest, back, upper arms, shoulders and thighs, short, hard-wearing boots and a thick belt onto which he attached throwing knives and stars, as well as a small dagger. Strapped diagonally across his back was his trusted katana. His forearms and half his hands were wrapped in faded bandaging, not from a wound, but to act as protection. His skill relied on speed and his ability to jump and leap; wearing too much armour inhibited him.

Today was the day of the most important festival; the coming of New Year. The large dragon twirled around the main courtyard just as it did every year, but now it’s image was reflected in every decoration, every drawing on a lantern. This year was the Year of the Dragon, and the ceremonial procession was full of them.

0

After the excitement of the night, everyone had retired, glowing and happy after dancing and laughing and eating osechi-ryori almost all night. Dorrien had insisted that Lorlen honour at least some New Year’s traditions, calling him from the rooftop with the special hand gesture that indicated he needed him. Lorlen was rather put out to discover that all the Head Priest wanted was to feed him kobumaki and kurikinton, then hurl him into the arms of a random village woman to dance. She had consumed so much sake that dancing with one of Harudai didn’t scare her, and despite his grumpy outer appearance Lorlen had quite enjoyed whirling dizzyingly around the courtyard, crushed in the press of other swirling figures, even laughing as he and his partner clung frantically to each other’s hands.

Now the lanterns had been put out, and only small lights remained flickering in the windows of the shrine buildings as inhabitants of all the precincts retired to bed. Lorlen was standing in a small silver of a room, barely wide enough for his body but as long as the whole room behind him. A paper screen separated him from the outer room, where a small candle guttered as Dorrien prepared for bed.

Lorlen shivered where he stood. There was a slight draft; he shifted and padded silently down the hall-like space in which he stood, aiming to close the other paper screen, a thicker wall that separated his room from a long corridor.

However, Dorrien’s voice reached him before he reached it. “Lorlen-san? Are you there?”

A silly question, Lorlen thought, turning. But Dorrien still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that he was _always_ there. “Yes.”

The screen at one side pulled back, and the Head Priest poked his head through. “What are you doing?”

“Closing a gap in the screen from outside in the corridor.”

“No, I mean what are you doing here? In the room?”

Lorlen frowned, then remembered that Dorrien couldn’t see it behind the mask. “Shounin-sama, I am always here.”

Dorrien shivered. “Really? That’s a little…”

“Intrusive?”

Dorrien raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you trained to deal with these kinds of feelings from your charges?”

_Well, he won’t believe a no._ “Yes.”

Dorrien sighed. “Just one more thing to get used to, hmmm?” Lorlen nodded. Dorrien looked down for a second, then his face brightened. “Well, come in here.” He retreated back to his room.

Cautiously, Lorlen stepped over the threshold into the room beyond. It was comfortable, with a small table surrounded by cushions for eating, another table covered with paper in the far corner, a futon, various drawers and a large painted window screen which opened onto the veranda that ran around the outside of the building. Dorrien rooted through a few drawers before coming back to him. “Here. Open your palm.”

Lorlen did so, and Dorrien dropped something into it. It was an o-mamori, and the charm attached was ‘health’. Lorlen smiled wryly. “Very appropriate. Thank you.”

Dorrien smiled slyly. “It only amounts to a symbol of my appreciation, but I thought it was quite apt. You might need it in your line of work. Now, Lorlen-san, if you don’t mind, I have a favour to ask…”

Lorlen looked up at him. “Please, ask. I am here to serve.”

“Um…” Dorrien looked uncomfortable. “I know it is tradition, but…I feel slightly unsettled, having…having never seen your face…”

Lorlen understood. He brushed back his wide hood, letting his mahogany coloured ponytail swing free, and released the clasp holding his mask in place. He smiled softly at Dorrien. “Excuse me. I should have introduced myself without it on.”

Dorrien stared at him unblinkingly for a few moments, an expression of surprise on his face, then spluttered; “No, no, I suppose I shouldn’t have asked, please excuse me for staring, I am so rude…” He rubbed the back of his head with his hand sheepishly.

Lorlen smiled. “No, it is my mistake. Please forgive me.” Dorrien seemed to want to say something else, but he yawned instead. Lorlen frowned apologetically. “Forgive me, Shounin-sama. I am keeping you from your bed.”

Dorrien paused, hesitated, and then nodded. “I will see you in the morning, Lorlen-san. Sleep well.”

Lorlen bowed, then retreated to the corridor and so back to his own room in the quarters of the Harudai. He sat on his futon, dangling the o-mamori from his fingers. What should he do with it? He smiled as an idea came to him. Reaching over, he pulled his sheathed katana to him and attached the small charm to the hilt, just above the guard. _Now when I fight my enemies, I will have the protection of Dorrien-sama’s o-mamori with me._ He didn’t know why, but the idea comforted him greatly.

0

It had been only two short months since he had been appointed Head Priest, but Dorrien still hadn’t gotten used to the weight he carried. Everyone in Shao looked to him for guidance, from the youngest farm child to the oldest scholar. Also, he still hadn’t gotten used to being followed.

Everywhere he went, he was conscious of a shadow tailing him, a feeling of being watched. Knowing who was following him didn’t make it any better, and neither did the fact that he liked and even respected the person following him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. Sometimes he would turn quickly, just to see if he could catch the sneaky Harudai out; but he was nowhere to be seen, and Dorrien had soon come to the conclusion that Lorlen didn’t stalk him from behind. He watched the rooftops too, but he never saw him unless he wanted to be seen.

Today, Dorrien had decided to see just what Lorlen would do if faced with nowhere to hide. He was going to take some food to people in the village, the traditional help from the shrine, then take a walk with the village children, something he had not had the time to do in the months since his appointment.

So far, in the village, Lorlen had hidden well. _He’s probably on the roofs,_ Dorrien thought. The children came running to him, chattering and babbling, and he smiled and addressed each by their nicknames, ruffling hair here and patting heads there. They all begged him to come walking with them, and he complied. He told them to take the route over the rice fields, wide open spaces with nowhere to hide apart from paddy ditches. _I wonder if he’ll hide in a muddy paddy ditch?_ Dorrien thought slyly to himself.

As they entered the fields, some of the children started to look behind them and tug at each other’s clothes. Dorrien was engrossed in talking to Emlie, a tiny child of only four years of age, and didn’t notice until Manae pulled on his robe and squeaked, “Dorri-chan, who is that stranger following us?”

Dorrien turned around. Like a wolf among a flock of sheep, Lorlen stalked two paces behind the group, masked face impassive. Dorrien shrugged. “That’s Lorlen-san. My bodyguard. Don’t worry, he’s not scary.” The children didn’t look convinced, and Dorrien wondered if Lorlen realised just how frightening he looked. The fact that his face and head were both completely hidden from view made it unsettling to be in his presence, especially when you knew that he could see your face perfectly from behind the mask. The katana didn’t help, obviously, but maybe the children hadn’t noticed…

“He’s armed to the teeth!” one of the children whispered to his brother.

“That sword is amazing!” the brother hissed back.

Dorrien shrugged and kept walking. Maybe they weren’t so scared after all.

0

He was dreaming. There were children in this dream. Yes, they were gathered around somebody’s feet, laughing and smiling.

Lorlen gazed at them until they turned to him, smiling and shouting, “Look, Lorlen-san. Dorri-chan is here for us!” And Lorlen looked at Dorrien, and the Head Priest’s smile broke into a thousand sunbeams that sweetly blinded him with their radiance…

Lorlen blinked as he was shaken roughly to wakefulness. He began to cry out, but someone placed their hand over his mouth. He forced his eyes wide and his body tensed, preparing to fight off an attacker, but found himself staring into Akkarin’s eyes. “Akk-chan?” he whispered.

“Len-chan, demons are here,” Akkarin breathed. “They’ve surrounded us. Hurry, dress and protect the Head Priest.”

Lorlen nodded and said no more. In less than two minutes he was fully outfitted and hurrying to Dorrien’s side. His arrival cast no more than a whisper of air over the assembled priests and priestesses, yet they all jumped like startled cats and whipped their heads around to check who was there. Lorlen bowed low, feeling his companions, Akkarin and Osen, do the same. The priests replied with nods and the group focused their attention back to situation, the Harudai taking up defensive positions around the priests. Lorlen moved like a whisper to Dorrien’s side.

“They’re just beyond the perimeter,” Dorrien whispered to the group. “They’ll probably try to make a breakthrough soon. Bows ready.”

With a flourish, the whole group raised the longbows that priests and priestesses trained with their whole lives. Dorrien motioned with his hand to the ground by his feet, and Lorlen found another lying there. He picked it up gingerly and set an arrow. He’d never been a good marksman, but he was a reasonably clean shot. He kneeled next to the Head Priest so as to have an unobstructed aim.

They waited, bow strings taunt, for any sign from the inky darkness. Things moved out there beyond the shrine fence, and sometimes eyes would flash red or yellow, light reflected in them from the lanterns of the shrine.

Then they were pouring suddenly over the fence, a couple of hundred small lizard demon. The still night air filled with the singing of bowstrings as the assembled holy archers let their arrows fly forth, and many of the invaders fell twitching to the ground, burning up suddenly as the holy power of the blessed arrows consumed them. Lorlen pulled the string taunt and let the arrow fly, breathing a sigh of relief as it hit the target. He didn’t relax for a second, pulling another arrow and aiming again.

Soon, the flood was a tiny few left standing, and the shrieking lizard creatures retreated into the night, screeching and caterwauling. Smiling and triumphant, the priests and priestesses relaxed their bows slightly, still watchful but fairly sure that the danger was now past. Lorlen straightened and let his bow arm relax. He’d missed as many as he’d hit, but was sure he’d made a passable contribution.

Then the silence was shattered. Insistent and awful, the watch bell began to ring, signalling an attack on the honden, the building which housed the sacred crystal. Without a second thought, Dorrien leapt down to the second level roof and dropped heavily to the ground, before running flat out for the honden. Heart thumping, Lorlen hopped off the edge of the roof also, springing lithely and softly to the ground below before taking off after the Head Priest at speed, ignoring the shouts of the priests and priestesses behind him.

Soon he had caught up with Dorrien, and they rushed to the side door of the honden together. It was dark inside, but the jewel glowed in its casement, faintly illuminating the room. Dorrien started towards it, but Lorlen gripped his shoulder and dragged him backwards into the shadows. “Don’t move,” he breathed into Dorrien’s ear. “We’re not alone.” Dorrien shivered under his hand, but followed his directions.

A soft sound of movement came from the other end of the hall. The watch bell had ceased to ring, indicating a predicament for its operators. Perhaps something had attacked them…

Hulking and monstrous, the hunched figure of a Great Lizard demon slithered into the faint light from the crystal. It grinned, its mouth pulling back to reveal rows of serrated, disgusting teeth, and it blew out a foul breath that hit them in a wave of stink. It lifted one hand and reached for the crystal, making a strangled laughing noise in the back of its throat. Dorrien twitched under his hand, but Lorlen held him still. _Do not worry, Dorrien-sama,_ he thought to himself. _I have no intention of failing my duty._

Before the demon could touch the crystal, Lorlen made his move. He shoved Dorrien down and to the side, gripping the cold hilt of his katana and drawing it at the same time. Charm swinging, he rushed at the demon’s arm and swung down, severing the limb cleanly at the wrist. The demon howled, rocking backwards and clutching at the stump, disgusting hair brushing against the ceiling. It roared and swiped, aiming for Lorlen, but the Harudai was too quick. He jumped up the injured arm and swung at the creature’s face, making a long cut down its cheek. As he avoided the monster’s arm, he bared his teeth in a grimace. He had been aiming for its eye.

Jumping and hopping, he managed to avoid the creature and lay more hits on it, making it howl and writhe. Springing like a cat, he leapt to the demon’s shoulder and finally made a successful jab at its eye. It roared and yowled, scrabbling for him, but he missed the flailing claws. Landing again, he crouched and ran, scaling the chest and making a stabbing motion towards the creature’s throat. It hit its mark, but the demon moved before he could get his sword in deep enough. Thick, hot blood splattered over the floor and him, and was his undoing. Blinded by the vicious liquid, he failed to spot the incoming claws, which knocked him flat and laid deep scratches into his side. He hit the floor hard, gasping, his side burning as if it had been branded. The creature howled its victory and moved in for the kill, towering above the measly ant and bringing up its one remaining hand as if to squash it flat.

A glow, much brighter than the light of the crystal, began to emanate from the side of the room. The demon paused, intrigued, and turned its head. An arrow came whistling out of the light, flying straight and striking true in the creature’s head, dead centre. The monster howled and disintegrated, destroyed by the power of the blessed arrow, yowling and wailing until it was gone. The light faded suddenly and out of it ran Dorrien, gasping and desperately worried.

He reached Lorlen’s side and fell to his knees, carelessly pulling aside the mail and black garments where they had been ripped by the creature, struggling to get a good look at the wound. Lorlen grunted and yelped, sitting up painfully and throwing the hapless priest’s hands off him. “I’m fine. It’s barely a flesh wound.”

“Lorlen-san, the demon’s claws could have venom, I need to look-”

“With all respect, Shounin-sama, I would prefer it if that didn’t involve damaging my clothes beyond repair.”

Dorrien looked down. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I worried, and…”

“It’s nothing.” Lorlen hissed with pain as he moved to take off the armour. “Maybe you should do this,” he conceded, directing Dorrien on how to remove all the items of clothing. When he finally sat bare-chested, he lifted one arm stiffly and said, “If you would be so kind, Shounin-sama.”

Dorrien hesitated, then placed soft fingertips on Lorlen’s side. The shrine guardian flinched and stiffened as the healing took place, but noted with surprise the softness and lack of calluses on Dorrien’s hands. Usually a priest would have at least some kind of mark from rigorous bow training…

“There, it is done.” Dorrien pulled his hands away with a sigh.

“Thank you, Shounin-sama,” Lorlen said quietly.

Dorrien looked away, and Lorlen was sure he imagined it, but maybe a slight flush did creep up the priest’s cheeks. “It’s nothing,” he said, sounding slightly flustered.

Lorlen tipped his head, wondering slightly at the young man’s reaction. Did he feel awkward around another person when they were half-naked? Or had it been his expression of gratitude that had thrown the younger man? “Are you alright, Shounin-sama?” he asked.

“Dorrien.” Lorlen frowned uncomprehendingly at him, so he explained; “Dorrien. I want you to call me Dorrien. I don’t care if you insist on adding ‘-sama’, just please, address me by my name.”

Lorlen hesitated, but nodded. “If you wish it.”

Dorrien smiled. “Good.”

Lorlen made to get up, but then remembered something. “Dorrien-sama, do you wash your hands with something?”

Dorrien frowned. “What?”

“They’re soft. You have no calluses.”

Dorrien looked surprised for a moment, then said, “I don’t do anything to them. I don’t know why I have no calluses.”

Lorlen looked puzzled. “A mystery, then.” Dorrien laughed at him, and he asked, “What?”

“It’s just funny, to think of you contemplating a mystery about me,” he smiled, “when I have so many to contemplate about you.”

Lorlen stared at him, confused by his meaning or his underlying meaning, and suddenly found himself possessed by an odd fluttering feeling, like a pleasant nervousness that shivered in his stomach and made his mind reel slightly. He looked hurriedly away, trying to shake the feeling, and stood abruptly, offering a hand silently to Dorrien. The priest looked surprised, but accepted his help, rising and following him out into the fearful crowd that had gathered around the entrance to the honden.

As Dorrien placated the crowd, Lorlen watched him, trying to place that odd feeling. What was it? He watched Dorrien, unmoving and unresponsive even when the Head Priest proclaimed Lorlen’s heroism to the assembled mass. Lorlen studied him, the way he moved and spoke, the way he looked, his personality and character, laying his image of him over his own personal feelings and trying to unscramble the strange mess that the feeling had come from. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place, and Lorlen felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Surely not…

He couldn’t be in love with the Head Priest, could he?

0

A celebration of their victory was held, with Dorrien insisting Lorlen be treated like a hero. Lorlen bore everything without complaint, still reeling from his sudden realisation, bumbling along in a daze without a sense of direction or purpose. Eventually they let him be, and he sat around one of the villager’s campfires, feeling more at home with the laughing, relaxed villagers than the mad, wildly dancing priests.

Here in their land, society embraced one simple concept; as long as you harmed no one else, you were allowed to live your life as you thought it should be lived. There were many legends about the founder of their civilisation, a man whose name was lost to the mists of time, who rebuilt his homeland out of the ashes of a devastating natural disaster as he thought it should be. He founded a love of free thinking and free lives, and it was now so ingrained in the culture that the people embraced what they wanted to and rejected what they didn’t without a thought, and the Emperor ruling from his high throne in the great city of Edoshin never had to do much but listen to his people’s advice.

So it came to be that, in the case of relationships, everything was pretty much left to personal taste. Relationships between people of a very great age gap were usually frowned upon, as was any relationship with children younger than a certain age or a relationship between close family.

As Lorlen scanned the groups sitting by the fire, he noted quite a few couples. Groups of couples sat talking, sat on their own, or embraced in the darker shadows outside of the flames’ reach. Men and women sat together, but a quarter of the way round the circle from him two young men sat with arms around each other’s shoulders, chatting softly and intimately. Across the fire, a group of many people of different ages with both couples and friends sat laughing and talking, with two women sitting wrapped up in each other by the edge, one relaxed across the other’s lap.

_It’s not wrong to feel this way,_ a soft voice in his mind told him. _He’s not some forbidden fruit._

_But he could never want me,_ another voice argued. _Someone who has no life other than shadowing priests and guarding shrines. I’m_ boring.

He let his head fall into his hands, despairing. What should he do? Just ignore it?

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Lorlen jumped and looked up. Dorrien was standing over him, smiling, carrying two plates of food. “How did you know it was me?”

“The o-mamori,” Dorrien pointed. “It’s attached to your katana hilt.”

Lorlen smiled, and pulled off the hood and mask. “That’s right. So it is.”

Dorrien sat down next to him and offered him a plate. “I hope it’s alright, I had no idea what you like…”

Lorlen grinned down at the plate. “Sekihan, eh? Really pushing the boat out tonight.”

Dorrien laughed. “They are indeed.” He looked at Lorlen seriously. “You shouldn’t be so modest, Lorlen-san,” he said quietly, his eyes shining. “You should take credit where it’s due.”

Lorlen felt himself short of breath, unable to focus on anything but Dorrien’s intense gaze and shining eyes. _If only he’d look at me like that for another reason…_ He quashed the thought and waved a hand. “I did my duty. That’s all.”

Dorrien sighed exasperatedly. “I can see I’m not going to win on this one, right?” He laughed, and tucked into his sekihan. Lorlen watched him, and sighed. _Give up, idiot. Him, want you? You’re crazy._

0

They made their way back to the shrine after the fire had burned low, and the light of the moon caught the shrine gate beautifully as they passed under it. The world seemed to glow, or so Dorrien proclaimed as he stood looking out at it from the wooden platform of the veranda. “Are you going to come back inside, Dorrien-sama?” Lorlen asked for the fifth time from the sliding door.

Dorrien turned and smiled at him. “It would be warmer if you came out here.” Lorlen was surprised. That sounded slightly…He forced himself not to dwell on it and joined Dorrien by the railing. The Head Priest sighed contently as he gazed out at the landscape. “We get such a beautiful view here, don’t we?” Lorlen nodded. Dorrien looked up at him, face illuminated with silver and eyes reflecting the light of the moon. Lorlen felt his heart catch stupidly yet again, and quickly looked out at the surrounding landscape. “Is something bothering you, Lorlen-san?” Dorrien asked. Lorlen risked a look back at him, seeing that he had stepped closer. _Damn it. Does he want me to be irresponsible for my own actions?_

“No. I’m fine.”

Dorrien looked concerned. “You seem uncomfortable. Is something wrong?”

Lorlen looked back at him again, and the lies choked in his throat as he took in the sweet, innocently troubled look on his face. He couldn’t keep lying. And yet, he just couldn’t tell him the truth. “Have you ever thought about marriage, Dorrien-sama?” he asked, changing the subject.

Dorrien looked thoughtful. “No, not really.”

“You haven’t performed a marriage ceremony yet?”

“No, most ceremonies happen in summer. They might start a month, two months from now.”

“Do you feel scared, when you think about being responsible for the happiness on that day, of that couple?”

Dorrien frowned. “I’ve never really thought about it. I just thought I’d learn the lines like any ceremony and perform them.”

Lorlen glanced at him, then tucked his head into his chest. “Do you ever think about love yourself?” he asked quietly.

Dorrien frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think about it? Loving someone?”

Dorrien nodded. “Yes. Sometimes.”

Lorlen hesitated, judging the idiocy of his next question, then decided to ask it anyway. “What is the person you see yourself with like?”

“Well…” Dorrien paused as if considering. “They’re kind, and they’re brave. They’re beautiful, and strong and fast. They have a strong, pure heart.”

Lorlen shivered, his voice barely reaching the other on the breeze. “She sounds wonderful. Is she one of the priestesses?”

“No, but involved with the shrine.” Dorrien paused, then said quietly, “And she is not a she.”

Lorlen looked up at him, finding him suddenly closer, bright eyed and anxious. They stared silently at one another for long seconds, Lorlen realising slowly what he was trying to say. “Oh. Not a she. Huh. A man, then.”

Dorrien raised an eyebrow. “Nothing gets past you, Lorlen-san.”

“Sounds like one of the Harudai…do I know him?”

Dorrien smiled. “He is one of the Harudai. And you know him well.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Suddenly Dorrien leaned into him, close enough that Lorlen could have touched lips with him were he only to move slightly forward. “And he’s right here,” Dorrien whispered, his breath hot against Lorlen’s mouth, before closing the gap between them.

Lorlen felt his eyes fall shut, savouring the sweet taste of the lips pressing against his, the soft, slightly chaste kiss so unexpectedly thrust upon him. He felt Dorrien begin to pull away and raised a hand to hold the back of his head, keeping him close. His lips opened with a sigh and he felt his back press against one of the veranda posts, the soft warm weight of Dorrien’s body pressing him backwards. He felt a tingle of desire shiver along his spine as the kiss deepened, and slid his other arm around Dorrien’s back, pulling him still closer.

They parted, gasping, almost a minute later, and Dorrien pulled away from him slightly, his cheeks flushing red. Lorlen bit his lip. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I guess I got a little carried away.”

Dorrien smiled slyly. “And here I thought I would have to convince you…” He leaned closer again. Lorlen happily obliged, kissing him back with helpless ferocity, throwing the future and all other plans to the winds. They could wait. This was far too good to miss.

 


End file.
